I shook it.
“Don’t cross my fence again.”
A relieved smile appeared.
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
He started walking away.
“Miguel.”
He turned.
“Your daughter still in college?”
“Yes.”
“How’s she doing?”
His entire face changed.
“Very good. Nursing.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
Then left.
That encounter affected me more than Denise’s departure.
Maybe because Miguel could do something Denise never managed.
Admit what he had done without building a courtroom around the admission.
Months passed.
My property became quiet again.
The well pump returned to its normal rhythm.
My electrical bill dropped.
No hoses appeared beneath the fence.
No inspectors arrived.
No certified letters.
No drones.
No petitions.
Sometimes I missed the absurdity.
Mostly I didn’t.
One evening Curtis came over with two beers.
We sat on the porch watching the sky turn orange behind the trees.
He handed me one.
“You know what still gets me?”
“That list could be long.”
“She had municipal water.”
“I know.”
“She could have paid for every gallon.”
“Yes.”
“How much would it really have cost her?”
“Less than the legal bills.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
He shook his head.
“The woman had a Porsche, designer clothes, hundred-thousand-dollar backyard, and she stole water because she didn’t want to pay the bill.”
“It wasn’t about the bill.”
“What was it about?”
I thought for a moment.
“Winning.”
Curtis looked at me.
“She needed every interaction to end with her getting more than the other person.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“Probably was.”
We drank quietly.
After a minute, he said, “You still think you handled it right?”
There was no judgment in his voice.
That was why I answered honestly.
“Not all of it.”
He glanced over.
“She needed to be stopped.”
“Yes.”
“She was warned.”
“Yes.”
“She trespassed.”
“Yes.”
“But?”
I looked across the yard.
“The guests didn’t.”
Curtis nodded.
“That bother you?”
“Every day for a while.”
“You’d do it differently?”
“I’d stop the theft sooner. Police report. Civil injunction. Shut the connection down completely. Make the evidence public.”